


And Peggy

by notquitepunkrock



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Amnesia, Angst, Coming Out, Drama, F/F, F/M, Family, Fluff, Found Family, Hamilton References, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, I don't know how to tag this without spoiling things I'm sorry I promise there will be more tags, John is gay and sad im sorry, Lesbian!Peggy Schuyler, Mystery, Past Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens, Peggy-centric fic, Post-War, War, also check out my creative af title lol, as in refs to the actual musical lyrics and such, except not really? It's complicated, idk man just go with it, it's definitely a modern AU but it's lowkey as if the revolution were to happen in 2017 ?, jfc okay, sort of i guess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-01-28 05:49:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12599596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notquitepunkrock/pseuds/notquitepunkrock
Summary: The Schuyler family was one of the most influential in the colonies, even as a war rages around them. Peggy was just trying to get through college with all of her family alive until the accident that took everything from her... including her memories.Maria woke up in a hospital bed, with no memory of anything before the accident. When James saunters in and tells her he is her husband, she can do nothing but believe him. But there's something strange about his story, something that doesn't quite make sense...





	1. .:one:.

**Author's Note:**

> okay so fun fact, this story came out of one of my sims3 games when i had a sim who was an author and all of his stories were hamilton references (rip Remy you were a good sim). And Peggy was one that i gave a fake plot it was just too good to not actually write.

Peggy hurried after her sisters as they crossed the street, looking around as if expecting to be caught. “Angelica!” she called, catching her eldest sister by the arm before the girl could disappear around the corner. “Angelica, you  _ know _ Daddy said to be home by sundown.” She glanced at the setting sun quite pointedly, crossing her arms.

Angelica rolled her eyes, reaching up to fix the pin holding back her hair. She shrugged, a mischievous twinkle in her dark eyes. “Daddy doesn’t need to know,” she smirked, starting to turn away. 

“But, Angie!” she cried, voice high and a little worried. “Daddy said not to go downtown!”

Angelica stopped and turned back to her youngest sister, sharing a glance with Eliza. “Like I said, Pegs, you’re free to go,” she replied, gesturing back the way they had come. Peggy glanced behind her for only a second and shook her head quickly, pressing herself to Eliza’s side. The middle sister wrapped a comforting arm around the teenager, glaring at Angelica.

“Be nice,” Eliza cautioned. “Peggy’s not used to this kind of thing, yet.”

Angelica shrugged, turning to lead the sisters towards the college. “She’ll get used to it,” she said, though it was clearly not meant in a malicious way. “Look around, girls. Revolution is happening right here in New York.”

They finally entered The Common, taking in the young men and women scattered around the park in the center of the square, some of whom were listening intently as someone spoke from atop a bench.

Peggy bit hard on her bottom lip, watching her sisters take in the sight with wide, excited eyes. “It’s bad enough Daddy wants to go to war,” she complained, pressing even closer to Eliza when someone turned to glare at her. 

“Sh,” Eliza cautioned, raising her eyebrows as a boy with curly hair called to his friends and several people responded enthusiastically. “There are so many people shouting,” she observed, grinning widely and letting out an excited whoop of her own.

“Why does anyone want violence on our shores?” Peggy pressed, quieter this time. Neither sister heard her, too busy staring around in utter fascination. She sighed softly, resigning herself to the berating they would have to endure if their father found out where they were at this time of day.

“So many new ideas in the air,” Angelica grinned, raising her eyebrows as someone objected to another person’s protest. She took in the scene hungrily, each boy yelling over the other. One boy’s friends were egging him on, encouraging at him to ‘tear this dude apart.’ Angelica seemed enthralled, but Peggy had to resist the urge to wrinkle her nose. “Just look around,” she continued, “isn’t it great?”

“Angelica, remind me what we’re looking for,” Eliza said softly, smiling at the excitement in their older sister’s eyes.

“She’s looking for me,” a pair of older men jeered, causing Peggy to nestle further into Eliza’s side and both older girls to scoff and roll their eyes.

Angelica smiled at her sisters and shrugged a little sheepishly. “I’m looking for a mind at work,” she said. “Someone I can talk to about  _ important  _ things.” 

Eliza and Peggy rolled their eyes, sending each other amused looks. This was a common trend with their sister. Once upon a time, they got offended, but they now knew she didn’t mean it the way it sounded. Angelica was just… well, she was Angelica.

A young man paused next to Angelica, one that Peggy vaguely recognized. She couldn’t remember his name, but she knew she had seen him before somewhere. Maybe his parents were acquainted with her father? She would assume he was one of his many acquaintances, but he looked to be roughly the same age as Eliza, around eighteen or nineteen. Far too young for Philip Schuyler to know well.

“Excuse me,” he said, smiling politely. “I, uh, know this isn’t funny, but your perfume smells quite expensive. I assume your father is quite wealthy.” 

Eliza raised her eyebrows and sent Peggy a look that read, ‘can you believe this guy?’ Angelica simply pursed her lips, raised her eyebrows, and nodded slightly to indicate that he should continue speaking.

“Why are you walking around the city in your fancy heels?” he asked, eyebrows raised as he eyed the heeled boots that Angelica was currently wearing. “Are you looking for someone who’ll give you ideals?” 

Angelica scoffed, crossing her arms and pursing her lips. “Burr, you disgust me,” she snapped. Peggy remembered this boy now - Aaron Burr, the son of the late president of Princeton college.

Burr smirked. “Ah, so you know who I am,” he said coolly. “I’ve got a trust fund, baby, you can trust me.” His tone turned sarcastic, but the smirk remained. 

Angelica looked supremely unimpressed, and her sisters had to suppress the urge to laugh at her pursed lips and raised eyebrows. She shook her head, turning away from him. “I’ve been reading Common Sense, by Thomas Paine,” she began. Eliza rolled her eyes a little, but watched her eagerly. “It throws men off - they tend to think that I’m… intense, insane, weird.” She shrugged, turning back towards Burr. She didn’t seem to notice the small crowd she had amassed, watching the exchange in amusement and wonder. 

“You want a revolution? Well, I want a  _ revelation _ . Women don’t get the rights they were

promised in this country. ‘We hold these truths to be self-evident that all  _ men _ were created equal.’” The remaining Schuyler sisters chanted the words with her, having heard them more times than either of them could count. “If I meet Thomas Jefferson… well, I’ll  _ compel  _ him to include women in the sequel.” She gave an almost feral smile and high-fived Eliza, smirking at the slack-jawed expression on Burr’s face.

“Please, Ms. Schuyler, I didn’t mean to offend you,” Burr began, examining the crowd from the corner of his eye. Peggy scoffed - what a typical response to pretty much anything Angelica said. 

“Of  _ course  _ you didn’t mean to,” she shrugged. “No man ever  _ means  _ to offend a woman. But with their habit of mansplaining they almost inevitably do.”

“We live at the best time in history,” Eliza pointed out politely, smiling softly at both Burr and the crowd gathered around them. “We’re  _ so  _ lucky to be alive right now. There’s so much revolution happening right here in Manhattan. We just happen to be in the greatest city in the world.”

Their audience nodded in agreement, turning to mutter to themselves. Slowly they dispersed, leaving only Burr standing in front of the sisters. Automatically, Eliza and Peggy moved to flank Angelica, crossing their arms like the Secret Service standing on either side of the president. 

“I don’t think I caught your names,” Burr said, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m Aaron Burr, as you know.” 

“We’re the Schuyler Sisters,” Angelica replied, face breaking into the polite smile that she had long since perfected. “I’m Angelica.”

“Eliza.”

“And Peggy,” Peggy finished with a small wave. She stood on her toes, as if she couldn’t be seen over Angelica’s shoulder, though her brightly colored dress made it impossible for her to disappear from view.

Burr bowed sarcastically to them and began to turn away. “Be careful in New York at night,” he cautioned. “You never know what could happen.” 

The three sisters wandered the square for a bit longer, until the sun had almost completely disappeared from the sky and it was growing difficult to see in between the streetlights. Peggy’s grip tightened on Eliza’s hand as a tall, muscular man with a beanie approached, but he rushed past them, fingers tapping away at the screen of his phone and paying them no mind.

“Angelica,” Eliza said softly, causing her older sister stop mid-step and turn to look at her. “Maybe we should head home. It’s late, and Peggy has school in the morning. And you know that Dad won’t be happy when we show up late.”

Angelica seemed to deflate a bit, and Peggy understood why. Her sister looked so at home here, amongst the people yelling and protesting and bustling about. Angelica belonged here in a way that Peggy and even Eliza did not. She examined Eliza, who looked apologetic, then glanced over at Peggy, who was fighting off a yawn and half leaning on her sister. With this in mind, she straightened up, squaring her shoulders and smiling at them.

“You’re right,” she admitted, hooking an arm around Eliza’s waist. “Let’s go - if we’re careful, maybe we can sneak in before Daddy gets home.” 

The three girls hurried through the streets, sticking close together. They reached their apartment, collapsing on the couch just a couple of minutes before their father walked through the door and dropped his briefcase. He let out a long groan before he walked into the living room, raising his eyebrows at the pile of his daughters sprawled across the couch. 

“Long day?” he asked them, pressing his lips together to hide his grin. Angelica and Eliza shot upright and sent him innocent smiles. 

“You know how shopping with Angie is, Daddy,” Eliza lied smoothly, smiling sweetly at him and shrugging a little. Peggy nodded quickly, keeping her mouth shut to keep herself from giving them away. 

Philip Schuyler chuckled, removing his coat and his shoes and heading towards the hallway off the living room. “Order something for dinner, girls,” he called, pausing in the hallway. “Whatever you want. I’ll eat something later.”

The girls nodded and their father waved as he walked further into his apartment, likely heading for his study. 

Angelica turned to smile at Peggy, a hint of rebellion in her brown eyes. “Told you we’d be fine, Pegs,” she smirked, elbowing her in the ribs. Peggy giggled and squirmed away, grinning at her sisters’ fond smiles.


	2. .:two:.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helpless ft Peggy and John watching it all happen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this chapter takes place about three years after the first one, during the beginning of Helpless and (the flashback part of) Satisfied. The first eight or so chapters are basically the first act of Hamilton, but from Peggy's pov in this modern world, after that is when the main plot arc begins and the angst really starts.

“So how’s the college life, Pegs?” Eliza asked, smiling sweetly at a passing soldier. She leaned against the wall behind her, eyes following Angelica as she dazzled the room. Peggy shrugged, flipping her long curls over her shoulder.

“It’s just school,” she said decisively, lower lip caught between her teeth.

“Ang would fight you on that,” Eliza laughed, elbowing her younger sister and pointing at said girl as she made her way through the room, weaving between dancing couples and people balancing wine glasses with practiced ease. It seemed like all eyes were on her as she finally stopped in front of her sisters, flashing one more wide smile and flirty grin over her shoulder before turning away.

Peggy and Eliza giggled, used to Angelica’s love for the spotlight. She laughed as well, pausing only when Eliza’s eyes landed on someone past her shoulder and her breath caught in her throat.

“Who are you looking at?” Angelica asked, raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow and looking over her shoulder. A trio of young men had just entered the room, smirks on their faces - a short man with a ponytail full of curls, an ever-so-slightly taller man with dark locks pulled into a shiny ponytail, and Aaron Burr. “Please tell me it’s not Burr, I swear to God, Eliza,” she added, rolling her eyes teasingly.

Eliza’s face turned red. “No!” she cried, “The one with the straight hair - look at him, he’s so handsome.” She looked between her two sisters for a moment, before a teasing smile spread across her face. 

“Yo, this one’s mine,” she joked.

Peggy eyed Angelica’s face as she hummed in agreement. “Be right back,” she smiled, turning back to the ballroom and walking towards the man with purpose.

“Angelica, no!” Eliza cried, stepping forward as if to stop her. Peggy placed a hand on her arm and pulled her back.

“She’s on a mission,” she said quietly. “I doubt you could make her stop.” Her sister sighed, but there was a hopeful gleam in her eye, combined with something else. Something… helpless.

The girls watched their sister speaking to the man, Eliza wringing her hands nervously as she spoke to him. “Look at the way he’s laughing,” she sighed, worrying her lower lip between her teeth with an utter disregard for her rose pink lipstick. “He’s in love already. I’ve missed my chance. I’m through.”

The man turned to look at Eliza, and Peggy watched their eyes lock. Her sister’s eyes softened and she looked away shyly. Peggy was almost jealous. 

Angelica led the man back across the ballroom to her sisters. She introduced him as Alexander Hamilton, an aide of General George Washington in the war. Eliza’s eyes shone with admiration at the introduction.

“Elizabeth Schuyler. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said politely, smiling brightly as Hamilton leaned down to kiss her hand.

“Schuyler?” he asked, turning half towards Angelica with raised eyebrows. Peggy understood - they were all adopted, and the trio of girls didn’t look like sisters, with their varying skin tones and facial features, but they were a close as those who were biologically related and fiercely protective.

“My sister,” Angelica assured him with a small smile. It looked almost pained, a fake layer of content over something less satisfied. 

“Thank you for all of your service,” Eliza said sincerely, drawing Hamilton’s eyes back to her. 

She smiled brightly as he clasped her hand sincerely between his own, nodding his head. “If it takes fighting a war for us to meet, it will have been worth it,” he informed her. Peggy caught Angelica’s eye over his head and rolled her eyes.

“Well,” her older sister said quickly, biting her lip to keep from laughing. “We’ll leave you to it.” With that, she grabbed Peggy’s arm and led her across the room, waiting until they were a safe distance away to begin laughing. 

“He didn’t even look at me,” Peggy pouted jokingly, before rolling her eyes. “Though who would when Eliza’s around.” 

Angelica shot her a sharp look. “Don’t say that, Margarita,” she scolded, grinning at the glare she received for using her sister’s full name. “You’re just as pretty as Eliza. Just, you know, younger. And apparently not Alexander’s type.”

“Oh, he’s Alexander now, is he,” Peggy grinned, elbowing Angelica cheekily in the ribs. 

“Shut up, Pegs, you saw how he and Eliza looked at each other,” she whispered harshly, throwing a glance over her shoulder at their third sister across the room. 

Peggy sobered up quickly, her eyes also falling on Eliza and Hamilton as they laughed to some unheard joke. “But are you really okay with that?” she asked softly, eyes searching her eldest sister’s for confirmation.

Angelica squared her shoulders, nodding once, harshly. “I have to be satisfied,” she said firmly, smiling as if it were a private joke. With this statement, she stopped at the side of a young man who was friends with their father, John Church, and struck up an easy, flirtatious conversation. Peggy sighed - the conversation was very clearly over.

She slipped away from her sister’s side and headed for their family’s table, one that was also shared with, apparently, the general and a few of his men. One of them was at his seat, watching the action lazily. His eyes seemed to be locked on Hamilton and Eliza across the room, a small frown pulling at the edges of his lips. 

Peggy recognized him as the young man who had entered the ballroom with Burr and Hamilton, the one with the ponytail of curls. She debated leaving him be for a moment before shrugging, rounding the table to sit at an unoccupied seat next to him. “That’s Eliza,” she said in his ear, making him jump.

“Wha?” he asked, blinking quickly in confusion. When he saw Peggy beside him, he sat up straight, flinching as if he had been burned. “I’m sorry, what?”

Peggy inclined her head towards her sister and her new friend, watching the man’s green eyes flick towards them and then back to her. “Talking to Hamilton. That’s Eliza, or, I guess, Elizabeth. My sister,” she explained, folding her hands in her lap. The man continued to stare at her in mild confusion.

“Sorry for scaring you,” she added quickly, smiling sincerely. He seemed to shake himself, holding out his hand for her to shake. 

“John Laurens,” he said as she shook his hand. “Hamilton’s… best friend.”

Peggy raised her eyebrows at the pause, but chose not to question it. “Margarita Schuyler. Call me Peggy.”

Laurens grinned. “I think I’m actually supposed to call you Miss Schuyler,” he reminded her, resting his elbows on the table. “Least, that’s what my dad always taught me. He usually knows best about those sort of things - so he says, anyway.”

Peggy shrugged. “Yes, you’re supposed to,” she agreed, copying his comfortable position by crossing her own arms on the tabletop and leaning forward to watch the room. “But that’s so  _ boring _ , isn’t it? Impersonal. I’d rather be called Peggy, if we’re going to be here all night.”

“And are we?” Laurens asked, amusement on the edge of his voice.

“We are,” Peggy informed him easily. 

Conversation between the two was surprisingly easy. Laurens - “Call me John, seriously, this goes both ways” - was incredibly entertaining, telling stories about Hamilton and their two other friends, Hercules Mulligan and the Marquis de Lafayette, that had Peggy laughing so hard her sides hurt. Her favorite one was about the night that they met in a bar, and the four of them had annoyed Aaron Burr so much that he had rolled his eyes and walked away in a huff. (“He doesn’t seem to like you two, much,” Peggy observed after this. John had shrugged, and replied with, “nah, he likes us. Just doesn’t like showing it, is all.”)

In return, Peggy told him stories about her sisters, from the protests and rallies that they’d all attended since Angelica was about sixteen, to the time that Eliza nearly burned the house down, to the time that Angelica tore Aaron Burr apart in front of an audience. They both kept a careful eye on Hamilton and Eliza, and on Angelica as she made her way through the crowd several times. Somehow, Peggy suspected that John was a little jealous of Eliza and Hamilton (whom he had myriad of affectionate nicknames for, from Alex to Hammy to Lion). Something about the way his eyes lit up when Hamilton glanced their way was a little more than platonic.

After a couple of hours, Peggy let out a long sigh before standing up from her seat. “Let’s dance,” she announced, pulling John up from his seat. He seemed hesitant, until his eyes landed on Hamilton, who was at the center of the dance floor with Eliza. “Sounds like a plan,” he conceded, leading her through the crowd until they were close to her sister and his friend. 

Dancing with John was a delight. He was a good dancer, was funny and kind and didn’t snap at her when she inevitably stepped on his toes. She could see Angelica watching them from where she was dancing with John Church, a knowing smirk on her face, but it wasn’t like that, not with John.

Shortly before dinner was to be served, they stood to the side, holding glasses of champagne that they sipped slowly. 

“So, is marriage in the cards for you, John Laurens?” Peggy asked, tilting her head innocently. She has some suspicions that needed to be confirmed. 

John turned red underneath his freckles, and shrugged, taking a long sip from his glass before answering. “It has to be, doesn’t it,” he said quietly. “Son of one of the leading members of South Carolina aristocracy can’t possibly be gay.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, John snapped it shut. He ducked his head and ran a hand across his hair, messing up the carefully smoothed back ponytail. Peggy, on the other hand, simply grinned and scanned the dance floor for Hamilton and Eliza once again.

“I knew it,” she said casually. “Birds of a feather and all that. So, Hamilton, huh?”

John looked up in alarm. “You’re- wait, what?”

“I’m gay, Laurens, keep up,” she smirked. “Of course my sisters don’t know and probably never will - I have to get married to a nice man and all, don’t I? So this is our little secret, alright?”

The man nodded quickly, smoothing down his hair. “But how’d you know about Alex?” he asked, voice slightly strained. Something on his face was guarded, like he prepared to fight her off if something went wrong. It raised red flags for Peggy, but she didn’t mention it, well aware that people like them often had to build these walls to stay safe.

Peggy shrugged. “The way you look at him is the way my mom looks at my dad,” she admitted. “It wasn’t hard to figure out, but I’m especially observant. And gayer than most. Are you in love with him?” At this she smirked, and some of the tension left John’s shoulders.

“We were- are- a thing, but have to, you know, keep it quiet,” John said softly. “He’s bisexual, actually, and we aren’t exclusive. He’s got so much love in his heart, and I know that. I’m fine with it. Still, sometimes it hurts to see him falling in love with someone else.”

“Do you think he’s falling in love with my sister?” Peggy asked, genuinely curious.

“Which one?” John said seriously, but he followed it with a laugh. “I think he is. I just hope he doesn’t break her heart.”

Peggy hummed in agreement, following John back to their table as the host called for dinner. Though they sat down the long table from each other - John across from Alex and next to the General near the head of the table, and Peggy beside Eliza and two seats down from her father’s position at the foot - they shared amused glances with each other all night long. As the night ended they promised to write to each other with easy smiles.

“I’ll see you at the wedding,” John laughed.

“What wedding?”

“Alex and Eliza’s, of course,” he grinned, and with that he was gone.


	3. .:three:.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eliza is helpless

John’s prediction turned out to be true. 

It was only a few weeks later when Hamilton arrived at the Schuyler apartment for dinner, a ring tucked in his pocket. Dinner was an awkward affair, with Hamilton and Eliza sharing worried glances every other minute under Angelica’s knowing gaze. Their father seemed content to ignore the feeling in the air, leading the table in a conversation about the war and the girls’ studies until dessert was served.

Hamilton and their father then disappeared into the study near the back of the apartment. They carried a bottle of wine with them, which meant this would not be a short conversation. The look on Eliza’s face as she scooted a stool over to be able to see through the glass door was enough to tell Peggy what was going on.

“Father doesn’t look convinced,” Eliza said softly, a frown on her face. She blinked quickly in a way that meant she was warding off tears. “I knew this was a bad idea.”

“Hush,” Angelica chided her, leaning against the wall that was closest to the hallway. She paused for a moment, listening hard. “I think it’s going well.”

Peggy rolled her eyes and smoothed her short denim skirt. “I don’t see what you’re worried about,” she said, turning her body so she was sprawled across the couch. Her thoughts drifted to her cell phone just inches away on the coffee table. She should text John and his friends, who she was in a group chat with. They would be more interesting than watching her sister worry. She stretched her arm, but the yellow case remained just out of reach, so she dropped it with a sigh. It wasn’t important enough to actually get up for.

“You know Daddy will give in if it will make you happy,” she added when she noticed the incredulous stares she was receiving from her sisters. “We all know he spoils us rotten.”

A small smile crossed Eliza’s face. “Thanks Peggy,” she said softly, sitting upright instead of leaning her body into the hallway to get a better view of the study.

Peggy nodded, satisfied her work was done. She had made Eliza calm down, now she could take a nap, she thought.

The thought didn’t last long. The door to the study opened and Eliza shot up, throwing herself into an armchair across the room and snatching up the book that Angelica had left on the end table. Peggy smothered her giggle as Eliza opened to a random page and pretended to be enthralled by what appeared to be an in-depth analysis of some boring text or another. Their father didn’t seem to buy it, smiling at her widely and looking pointedly at the stool, but Eliza seemed to be steadfastly ignoring his knowing grin.

He paused for a moment just outside of the living room, putting a hand on Hamilton’s shoulder and holding out his other to shake. “Be true,” he said firmly, and Hamilton nodded seriously, before taking the few steps into the living room, his eyes locked firmly on the girl dressed in blue.

Hamilton stood in front of her, carefully taking the book from Eliza’s hands. This was when Peggy knew to sit up, snatching her phone from the table to take a video of the important moment. He got down on one knee and Eliza let out a small gasp, which Peggy thought was funny since she’d known this was going to happen. She had to smother a giggle in her shoulder, praying no one else in the room heard it.

“My darling Betsy, I love you so much,” he began, and tears welled up in her eyes at the nickname. “I don’t have any money, any property, or a name that counts for anything. I’m a soldier though, and I’m strong, and I’m smart, and I’ve got my degree. You’ve given me something worth more than all of that - a home and love and a family. So with what I have I promise to give you the life I deserve, if you’ll have me.

“Elizabeth Schuyler, will you marry me?”

Eliza’s tears were running down her face freely now, and even Peggy had to wipe a few away with the back of her hand. She started nodding. “Yes, yes, a thousand times yes,” she said sweetly as Hamilton slipped the ring onto her finger. She stood and Hamilton kissed her, picking her up and whirling her around with a strength that Peggy was surprised he had in those spindly little arms.

Peggy stopped the video and smiled at Angelica across the room. Her eldest sister smiled back, looking only slightly heartbroken. 

Philip Schuyler clapped his hands, a teary smile on his face. He dug into his pocket. “Why don’t the four of you go and get ice cream to celebrate. I’m going to make some calls,” he said, handing Hamilton a wad of bills. He hustled them out the door and the elevator deposited them into the cool April sunshine too quickly, leaving Peggy wishing she could have at least grabbed a sweater from the coat closet before they left.

Angelica and Eliza hurried ahead after exiting their apartment building, heads bent together in a way that probably meant they were already discussing wedding plans. Peggy hung back, raising her eyebrows at Hamilton when he approached her.

“Hamilton,” she said coolly, nodding politely.

“Margarita,” he replied with a smirk, chuckling at the disgust that crossed her face at mention of her full name. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“And why’s that?” asked Peggy, fishing her phone from her pocket to read John’s most recent message, a series of exclamation marks in reaction to the video of Hamilton’s proposal.

“I know Angelica,” he said casually. “I’ve conversed with her nearly as much as Betsy. And you’re friends with John and Herc and Laf. I’m marrying your sister. And yet, I feel as though I barely know you.”

Peggy shrugged, rubbing at her chilly arms. “There’s not much to know,” she said.

“Now that’s not true,” Hamilton disagreed stubbornly. “Your sisters have told me about you, and so have my friends. They say you’re hilarious, and loving, and loyal. I want to know my future sister.”

It was hard for Peggy to keep herself from bristling at that. She knew that, legally, Hamilton would be her brother-in-law soon, probably much sooner than she even expected. She knew that made him part of the family, especially since she was so close to her sisters. But somehow it hadn’t set in that this cocky heartbreaker who’d wooed her favorite sister was going to be her brother. 

“What do you want to know?” she said instead. Hamilton grinned, pulling out his phone and showing her the long list of questions he’d typed up in his notes.

“I just have a few questions,” he said sheepishly. She rolled his eyes and motioned for him to continue, sure that she would hate every second of it.

Of course she didn’t. Alexander had her laughing in minutes, though perhaps not as hard as John had when they’d first met. It was unsurprising. There had to be something in him that made both of her sisters go moony-eyed and caused John to stick to him like glue. Something in her wanted to be his friend, and she hated it, hated that she was won over so easily as everyone else seemed to be. And yet, she couldn’t deny it. Maybe she wouldn’t hate being Alexander’s sister.


	4. .:four:.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wait yall, school has been kicking my butt but I'm home sick today so I managed to get out a chapter. Hope you enjoy it!   
> For those keeping track, we're on Helpless/Satisfied still, and like, right before Story of Tonight Reprise.

Peggy took the box of letters from her sister’s hands and slipped out of her room. Her bridesmaid’s dress swished at her knees as she went down the central staircase, intent on setting it up in the foyer beside the pictures of the bride and groom. She would have been miffed at the dismissal as her sister got ready, but she knew Angelica really had it handled. Peggy was more than happy to leave most of the preparations to her older sisters.

There was a whoop of excitement from behind her, and Peggy turned on her heel to find Alexander and his groomsmen hurrying down the hallway leading through the entire house. “Little Schuyler!” John yelled, grabbing her around the waist and twirling her around before she could protest.

When she was let down, Peggy gently hit John’s shoulder, sticking out her tongue childishly. “I told you not to call me that,” she laughed, giving him and Alexander tight hugs. She turned to the the two other groomsmen with a small smile, holding out her hand.

“It’s so nice to meet you in real life,” she grinned. The tall man with an afro pulled back into a bun rolled his eyes, pushing her hand away and scooping her into a hug.

“We are already friends, meeting or no, and anyway, we will be accompanying one another down the aisle,” he argued. Peggy shrugged, unable to disagree with that logic. Besides, she wasn’t really in the position to be turning down offers of friendship.

Hercules, a large, muscular man with a beanie on his head despite the formal occasion, grinned at her and held out his hand before pulling her into a third hug. “Nice to meet you, Peggy,” he said kindly. “We’ve got to get our boy here dressed for the big day, but I’d love to discuss that dress idea you had at the reception.”

A smile lit up Peggy’s face. She was excellent at designing clothes, though not particularly good at making them, and Hercules had promised to help with a design she was particularly fond of. “Of course,” she said. “I’ve got to go see if my mother needs any help outside. I’ll see you three later.”

Alexander’s groomsmen disappeared into the downstairs guest room as quickly as they’d appeared in the first place, leaving just him to watch Peggy silently rearrange to box of his and Eliza’s love letters on the table. 

“Why aren’t you helping Betsy get dressed?” he asked curiously, tucking his hands awkwardly into the pockets of his jeans. 

“I could ask you a similar question, Alex,” she sighed, turning back towards him and crossing her arms. “I’m not necessary to the process.”

Alexander scoffed. “Of course you are,” he said. “Isn’t the bride supposed to get ready with her sister and gaggle of giggling bridesmaids at her side?”

“She’s got Angelica,” Peggy said dully, plucking at a nonexistent thread in her skirt. “I’d just get in the way. They probably haven’t even realized I’m still gone.”

A frown flashed across Alexander’s face and his eyes softened. “Your sisters love you,” he said. “You don’t bother them. They’re extremely proud of you, and you know you have a better eye for fashion than Angelica anyway. They’re definitely wondering where you are.”

Peggy shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. I’m the youngest Schuyler sister, and I could never compare to Perfect Angelica and Eliza. Everyone just forgets about me.”

“I don’t,” Alexander argued, making Peggy feel, not for the first time, like he was an older brother who was looking out for her. “They miss you. Go upstairs.”

Peggy mustered a smile and nodded, hurrying back up the stairs to Eliza’s room before she could talk herself out of it. As she pushed the door open, she was practically attacked by a frantic Angelica, who pushed a handful of hair pins and flowers into her hair and pointed at their sister desperately.

“There you are, we thought you’d gotten lost,” Eliza teased from her seat in front of the vanity.

“Please, I know Mother’s house like the back of my hand,” Peggy laughed, crossing the room and eyeing her sister’s hair. “Now shut up and face forward. It’s time for me to work my magic.” She let her sisters’ laughter wash over her and got to work, determined to prove herself wrong.

\---

The wedding was a gorgeous ceremony in the back garden of their mother’s estate, which she’d gotten in the Schuylers’ messy divorce. Because there were no young members of either family, and Eliza and Alexander wanted to keep the wedding party close to equal, Hercules served as flower girl, to everyone’s amusement.

Angelica and John were the maid of honor and best man, which surprised no one. As the favorite sister and best friend, they filled the roles perfectly. John’s toast was filled with sweet anecdotes and encouragements for the bride and groom. As he wrapped up, however, Peggy could see the pain in his eyes even though he tried to cover it by taking a long sip of champagne.

“And now, give it up for the maid of honor,” he said, motioning to his side. Angelica grabbed Peggy’s hand and swept forward, a charming smile on her face as she looked around the room.

“A toast to the groom,” she announced, holding her glass towards the happy couple. “And to the bride. From your sister, who is always by your side. I’m so proud of you, and wish you the best. Your union provides hope to our family.” There was gentle applause before everyone lifted their glasses and murmured in agreement. Peggy shifted under sister’s arm uncomfortably. What if they didn’t want to be a beacon of hope?

Alex stepped forward as Angelica and Peggy stepped back. “I have a toast to make, and then we can move on to the party,” he announce.

He turned to Eliza with a smile on his face. “My dearest, Betsy, you are too good for me,” he said, holding her hand gently. “It’s insane how your family brings out a different side of me - your parents welcome with open arms, Peggy confides in me, and Angelica banters and flirts. My love for you will never be in doubt, and when this war is over we will have our own place to live out our lives.

“I lost my family when I was very young. My father left me, my mother died. My brother worked. I had to raise myself, and yet I know that my mother would love you just as much as I do. Eliza, my darling, as long as I’m alive, I swear to God, you will never feel helpless.”

Peggy had to wipe a tear from her eye. Alex was so good with words and she had been foolish enough to forget it. The emotion in his voice was raw and real - she could see just how much he loved her sister. He lifted his glass to signal the end of his toast and knocked it back. Peggy took a long sip from her own champagne before abandoning it on a table nearby. 

As the guests began to move from where they’d tucked themselves for the toasts, Peggy scanned the room for someone to talk to. Seeing no one of particular interest, she ventured into the kitchen, where she could generally avoid everyone. There was a nook tucked into the corner of the pantry where she had stashed a few books over the years. She chose one now, and hopped up onto the counter disregarding her fancy dress and heels. In fact, she let her pale yellow pumps fall to the ground with soft thuds.

A while passed before she was disturbed, but it was about thirty pages into her book that Lafayette came wheeling into the room, arms waving wildly around his tall figure.

“Peggy!” he called, sliding to a stop on the tile floor. Peggy cast a judgemental gaze over him and caught sight of the cute alligator socks on his feet.

“That would be me,” she remarked idly. “Nice socks.”

“Thank you,” Lafayette said. “I got them from the General.” Before Peggy could process that particular piece of information, he was back to being panicked. “Anyway, you are needed in the barroom right now immediately.”

Peggy sighed loudly and shoved herself off of the counter. She disappeared into the pantry for a moment, her voice drifting out of it as she put her book carefully back into its hiding place. “And why am I needed, exactly?”

When she emerged from the pantry, Lafayette was wringing his hands together wildly. It was definitely a strange look for the Frenchman. “It’s John and Angelica, they’ve started a little In-Love-With-Alexander moping club and it’s not pretty,” he said, whisking her away before Peggy could even get her shoes back on. She sighed. When did she become the one who had to fix everything?

She found herself in the corner of the backyard, where Angelica and John were sitting mopily at the bar that had been set up for the reception. The bartender, the son of one of her mother’s friends that Peggy vaguely remembered being forced to attend events with when she was young, had looked relieved at the sight of her hurrying across the yard behind Lafayette. It did not bode well for Peggy. 

“Pegs!” Angelica cried, and Peggy winced. Her sister was drunk. Great. Who was the responsible one here again? Her older sister grabbed her by the arm and dragged her into a hug, burying her face in the top of Peggy’s head. “Pegs, I’m a good sister, right?”

“The best sister,” she said, pulling away and spotting the half-drained glass of wine in front of her sister. “I’m gonna take that, okay?” She took the glass away and handed it back to the bartender with a small eyeroll and silent plea to cut her off. 

“I gave him up for her,” Angelica grumbled, nodding towards the dancefloor where Alexander was whirling Eliza around with love in his eyes. “I let her have him, Peggy. I let her have Alex.”

Peggy sighed. “I know, Ang,” she said quietly. “You did a good thing.” Angelica nodded sadly and put her head down on the bar. Peggy ordered a glass of water for her sister, and moved around her to where John was staring at his Sam Adams with a forlorn look on his face.

She hopped up onto the stool beside his, vaguely aware of Herc and Lafayette watching her. “You doing okay, John?” she asked, nudging him gently in the upper arm with her elbow. John raised his shoulders in a listless shrug before letting them fall again in a way that looked utterly defeated. 

“I’m fine, Little Schuyler,” he said with a strained smile. “I have no right to be upset - it’s not like he’s mine to be jealous over.” The  _ not anymore _ went unsaid, but Peggy could hear it on the edge of his voice. She wondered when Alex officially broke it off, how long John’d had to get over his heartbreak before having to put on a smile as the best man of his ex’s wedding. As much as she loved Alex, she kind of hated him in that moment. 

Said man was making his way towards them now, Eliza’s hand clutched tightly in his own. She looked at him like he’d hung the moon in the sky.  _ “At least someone is happy,” _ Peggy thought, patting John on the shoulder as she slid off of her stool, returning to Angelica’s side. Said sister looked more alert, the water followed by coffee that she’d drained while Peggy talked to John. Herc quickly stole her spot, and Lafayette slipped into the stool on the other side of him, making a joke that caused the trio to laugh too loudly. 

As Alex joined his friends, Eliza slipped into the space between Peggy and Angelica, a spot that had always been hers. The two sisters subconsciously left room for her even when she wasn’t present. With a start, Peggy realized that now that Eliza was married and Angelica was soon to be looking for a husband, she would be the only Schuyler sister left. She shuddered, pushing the thought from her mind for the moment and flashed Eliza a loving smile.

“I’m married,” Eliza said happily, as if they had somehow missed the extravagant ceremony, the endless photographs, the dancing, and the cake. “I’m Elizabeth Hamilton now.”

“ _ Schuyler _ Hamilton,” Angelica joked, catching sight of the nauseous look on Peggy’s face. “You’re stuck with us for the rest of your life.”

Eliza smiled kindly. “I wouldn’t change it for the world,” she admitted, squeezing her sisters’ hands. She pulled Angelica out of her seat, tugging them towards the dancefloor that she’d just vacated. “Come on, now, I got them to put Candy Store on the playlist.”

“Hold on, let me go get my shoes so we can really slay this,” Peggy giggled, sliding in her tights into the kitchen and picking up her discarded heels. She hurried back to the dance floor and slipped them on at the doorway, eyes scanning the room for her sisters.

Peggy let a small smile cross her face as Eliza hurried up to the DJ to request their song, getting into position just behind and to the left of Angelica in the middle of the dance floor. She let herself get caught up in the familiar movements, her yellow dress swishing sassily as she swayed her hips. For a moment, she let herself pretend life was still normal, that they were just dancing in the living room to musical soundtracks and that no one was married or part of some weird love square where only one of them won.

If only things could have stayed that way.


	5. .:five:.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello hello! welcome back to this mess of a fic and happy new year! hopefully updates will be a little faster this year, I have up to chapter nine written at the moment, so at least for a little while they should be weekly or so. If they aren't I'm sorry, I'm in the last semester of high school so I have a lot going on at the moment.
> 
> For those of you keeping track we're making our way through Stay Alive, 10 Duel Commandments, and Meet Me Inside in this chapter. (I promise things will start slowing down once we reach Act II.)

Peggy hated coming home from school now. Her father’s apartment was too empty without her sisters there, what with Eliza off at their mother’s home spending her days as a soldier’s wife and Angelica traveling between her side and women’s rights conferences throughout the colonies. The thought of returning to said apartment for the summer made her shift uncomfortably.

Kitty Livingston waved at her from across the quad as she trudged her way towards the dorms, wrapping an arm around the curly haired woman at her side and laughing brightly. Peggy waved offhandedly and hurried onward, crossing her arms over her chest against the cold breeze that was the very last of the morning chill clinging to the edges of summer.

Her phone buzzed in her hand as she made it to the elevator of her building, leaning against the wall as she fished it out of the pocket of her jeans. She hoped it would be news from one of her siblings that she wouldn’t be the only one home for a while, but the only thing she’d gotten was a tweet from Alexander complaining about being denied a commanding position for what she was sure was the millionth time. Peggy sighed, returning her phone to the pocket just as the doors dinged open to the fourth floor.

Her dorm was empty when she arrived, her roommate already off on her weekly Friday night clubbing ritual before leaving on Sunday. Laughter floated down the hallway from the other rooms, but Peggy ignored it to grab her yellow suitcase. Her half of the dorm seemed bare without her things, which she’d shipped back to the apartment earlier in the week per her father’s instruction. This was the last she’d see of campus until the fall semester. It felt odd to be leaving, but she had to go now. The car would be waiting for her by the time she made it to the parking lot. 

Sure enough, there was a sleek black car in the parking lot, and her father’s chauffeur was waiting to open the door for her. “Miss Schuyler,” he said, bowing his head as he opened the door. Peggy gave him a bright smile.

“Hello John,” she said brightly. John took her suitcase and closed the door behind her as she slid into the backseat, sprawling across in preparation for the hour long car ride. Her eyes drifted closed, thoughts turning to her sisters, so far away with the war looming over their heads. A battle too close to home could be the end of them, especially given their family’s loud support of the Revolution. They wore targets on their backs.

The thought terrified her.

Her thoughts turned now to John, Hercules, Lafayette, and Alexander as an active part of the war, the possibility that they could die in every moment. She knew Hercules was somewhere in the city, away from the actual battles, and that the endless denial of a leadership position meant Alex was at far less risk than he could be. But there was still Lafayette on the front lines, and John gearing up to take charge in South Carolina. They weren’t safe, and they wouldn’t be until this stupid war was over.

Peggy’s thoughts drifted until they pulled into the parking garage under their building, and she made her way up to the apartment with tired eyes. Her father wouldn’t be home for hours, if at all - she couldn’t even remember if he was on a trip or not. She was going to be home alone, whether she liked it or not. 

Sure enough, the living room was silent and dark when she unlocked the door. Peggy shuddered, flipping on all the lights that she could reach and turning on the radio for some noise. She was starting to hate the quiet. Her entire life had been filled with laughter and conversation, and being the last one left to it was unnerving.

Her phone buzzed loudly, and she tugged it out to find a text from Angelica about her new not-quite-boyfriend and his endless insistence that he would be the one to pay for their meals, as if Angelica couldn’t just because she was a woman. It had been five months since the wedding, and Peggy was glad to see her sister moving on from Alexander, but John Church was a bit… bland. He was not someone she would have pegged as her sister’s type, but maybe that was the point.

Maybe she wanted someone as dissimilar from Alex as possible.

Peggy dropped onto the couch and replied to her sister’s text, only to be met with a phone call from Eliza. She frowned. Her older sisters texted more than they called, preferring the privacy from outside ears. Something had to be wrong.

“Hello?” She answered the phone cautiously, worrying her lower lip between her teeth. 

“Peggy, are you at home?” Eliza’s voice was breathless and heavy with tears, but Peggy couldn’t tell if they were sad tears or not. Her heart made its way to her throat, but she swallowed hard and pushed past it.

“Yeah, just got to the apartment, actually,” Peggy replied, trying to sound like she wasn’t ready to run all the way to the countryside and to her sister. “Do you need something?”

“I’m in the city, Pegs, and I really need to see you.”

Peggy was on her feet in an instant, halfway to the door before she could get anymore words out of her mouth. “Where are you? Do you want to meet somewhere? Do you need me to come get you?” she asked. Briefly, she thought of the way she had trailed behind her sisters at seventeen, scared to walk through a city square. It contrasted greatly with herself now, only two years later and willing to traverse the streets of New York on her own to find Eliza.

Her sister drew a shaky breath. “I’m okay, I’m a few blocks from the apartment,” she said. “I’ll be there in ten.” 

She nodded, then remembered that Eliza couldn’t see her. “I’ll get some tea started,” she said just before the older woman hung up. 

It felt like no time before Eliza was at the door, looking like a dream in her pale blue sundress except for her red eyes and the tear tracks on her face. She was curled around a pillow on the couch, and with a start Peggy realized how much younger her sister looked. Too young to be married and worrying about a husband who was off fighting a war.

“I’m sorry to burst in,” she said softly, biting on her bottom lip. Peggy rolled her eyes and sat beside her on the couch.

“It’s your home too,” she said firmly. “What’s wrong?”

Eliza sighed. “Nothing’s wrong, really,” she explained, though she didn’t sound convincing. “In fact, it’s really a good thing. Just, I’m so scared, Peggy. And you’re so young, I wouldn’t usually put my burdens on your shoulders like this, but I needed to talk to someone and you’re my sister.”

Peggy smiled wryly. “So I noticed,” she said, some of the panic leaving her body as Eliza let out a small chuckle. She was laughing. It couldn’t be that bad if she was laughing. “What is it, Eliza? Did something happen to Alex?”

Eliza shook her head quickly. “Alexander is fine,” she said. “It’s me.”

Her small frown deepened at the way Peggy stiffened, ready to check her for injuries or illness, but Eliza waved her away. “Not like that, Pegs. It’s just… Peggy, I’m pregnant.”

Peggy was confused. Was that a bad thing? For as long as she could remember, Eliza had wanted to be a mother to a large family. Now, if it was Angelica, she would be concerned. Motherhood would prevent her eldest sister from her achieving her ambitions. Peggy herself would be panicked at the very thought - as the youngest child, she’d been doted upon but had never had to take care of anyone the way her sisters had. But Eliza was made to be a mother. It was her calling.

“Are we upset about that?” she asked cautiously. She almost wished Angelica were here. Her oldest sister was blunt, but she could read people extremely easily. Eliza shook her head again, a soft smile on her face.

“I’m not upset, I’m excited. I’ve always wanted to be a mother.” The smile dropped then, and she caught her lower lip between her teeth again. “But with Alexander off fighting… I don’t want this baby to grow up without a father.” 

Peggy understood that. It’d been hard enough when their parents had separated, and that had been when when they were eleven, thirteen, and fifteen, and they’d seen their mother fairly often even afterwards. But losing Alexander entirely would be devastating to Eliza and significantly worse for the child. 

Still, she had to resist the urge to remind Eliza that the kid would have Herc, John, and Laf there to take the place of its father. That wouldn’t help assuage her fears. If anything, it would probably make them worse.

She frowned for a moment, thinking. “You could write to General Washington,” she suggested, shrugging. Eliza looked thoughtful, before she stood up and ran to her bedroom, returning a few moments later with a stack of stationery and a pen. 

She dropped onto the floor beside the coffee table and bent over the paper. Peggy scooted over to her side and leaned forward, offering suggestions each time her sister pursed her lips in confusion. The end result was a fairly eloquent letter, if slightly riddled with spelling errors from Eliza’s hand. Peggy pulled the letter over to edit it, while Eliza prepared a second sheet of stationery to rewrite it with the errors excluded.

 

_ General Washington, _

_ I’m sorry to be writing in such a  _ _ cazual _ _ casual way, but I have an  _ _ erjent _ _ urgent re _ _ kw _ _ quest. As you know, my husband, Alexander Hamilton, is a valued member of your family with as _ _ s _ _ pirations of leading a command of his own. However, I must urge you to consider carefully before putting him on the front lines of the battlefield. _

_ I know that it is not my place to ask this, but as a wife, I feel I must. I have recently found out that I am  _ _ pregnent _ _ pregnant, and I worry that Alexander will die in battle and leave my child without a father. I beg you to  _ _ considder _ _ consider this when making your orders, and keep my husband as safe as you can. Send him home, if you can find reason to, please. He should meet his child.  _

_ I of course understand that this is a war, and that my own desires will not be priority, but I  _ _ emplor _ _ implore you to at least consider this letter before you dismiss me as just another worried bride. _

_ Sinseerly _ _ Sincerely, _

_ Elizabeth Schuyler Hamilton _

 

Peggy watched her sister painstakingly rewrite the letter in her neatest handwriting, thoughts turning back to just how close her brother-in-law was to the war. He could die any day, he could be gone by the time this letter reached General Washington and they wouldn’t know for weeks. She huffed, falling onto her side and not even bothering to move when her face ended up smooshed into the couch cushion. 

Suddenly, she sat up, eyes wide. “Have you told Angelica? Have you told our parents?” she demanded. Her eyes widened further and she leaned forward urgently. Her voice dropped as if someone would overhear her, despite the empty apartment. “Have you told  _ Alex _ ?”

Eliza avoided her eyes guiltily. “Mother and Father know,” she said quietly. “I haven’t told Angie, she’s too busy. She’d leave Philadelphia immediately and she needs to be there.”

“And Alex?” Peggy pressed. Her sister shifted uncomfortably. “Eliza, you didn’t tell him, did you?”

Eliza shook her head and set her jaw. “He’ll fight until the war is done, but he should meet his child,” she said quietly. “It will hurt less if he doesn’t know.”

“What do you expect to do if he comes home to find a  _ baby _ , Eliza?” Peggy asked incredulously. “‘Hi honey, you’ve been gone for a while, meet your daughter, her name is Peggy?’ That is super not the way to go about it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Peggy,” Eliza said with an eyeroll. “If it is a girl, her name will be Angelica. And if I did name if after you, it would have to be Margarita, wouldn’t it?” 

Peggy scowled crossing her arms. “No one should curse a child to this name,” she said firmly. She hated her name with a burning passion, having dealt with far too many jokes about it as a child and teenager. For this reason alone, she had long since resolved to never touch the drink, already predicting the teasing from her sisters and friends. Already she’d gotten far too many texts from John about how he was drinking her on his evenings off.

“Good thing it will likely be a boy, isn’t it?” Eliza smiled. She looked happy, once the thought of her husband dying was assauged. Peggy counted that as a win. She flopped back on the couch and stared at the ceiling while Eliza wandered into the kitchen, muttering something about ordering takeout. Peggy hoped it would be from the Chinese place around the corner.

\----

The war was a mess, Peggy had decided. Every day there was news of another battle, and she spent most of her time praying that she would receive the messages that had become customary in the days following that confirmed her friends were safe. Her phone lay silent most days as the war waged on, only ringing with calls from her sisters or her parents.

Even her school friends had stopped messaging, as they had just as many stakes in this war as Peggy did. She spent most of her days on the couch with her knees pulled to her chest and tucked under her chin, staring with wide eyes at the battle coverage playing on the news. Angelica swept in and out once in awhile to see her, doting on her and scolding her for watching the news, when all that would come of it was anxiety. Still, Peggy couldn’t tear her eyes away from the scene. With each freshly abandoned battlefield they showed still strewn with bodies, she searched the dead for Laf’s curly hair, or John’s freckles, or Alex’s pale skin. So far, they remained safe, but she couldn’t help but be gripped with fear every time she turned on the television.

The day Alex was sent home was another one of these, a few days before she was due to return to school for her junior year. Peggy wasn’t there to see it, curled up in her spot on the couch while her father was overseeing a business negotiation upstate. Eliza was ages away where their mother could dote on her through her pregnancy, and Angelica, though in town, was off at a luncheon with some of Church’s friends.

(Peggy’s insistence on calling her sister’s boyfriend Church, rather than John, was a bit of tension between the pair of them. When questioned, she shrugged. “I already have a John,” she said firmly, and all arguments ended.)

She got a message from Alexander later, demanding to know why he hadn’t been informed of the baby that was on the way, but she wasn’t there for the tearful reunion. She didn’t hear Eliza begging to be a part of Alex’s legacy, that thing he was so obsessed with. His claims that he wasn’t good enough for Eliza would have earned him a slap in the face, had Peggy been there. 

She knew he wasn’t good enough for either of her sisters, but that didn’t give Alexander a right to say it. If Eliza loved him, that should be plenty of proof for him.

What she did get was a phone call from John grumbling about being suspended from duty for a few weeks because he got into a duel to protect Washington’s honor. Peggy had nearly dropped the phone at the news.

“Jonathan Laurens, tell me I did not hear the word duel come out of your mouth,” she snapped, sounding startlingly like her mother. 

“That’s not even my name,” he groaned. “It wasn’t a big deal, I didn’t even get shot.”

“A duel with  _ guns, _ ” Peggy clarified, her heart seizing in her chest. “ _ John _ .” 

“ _ Peggy, _ ” he teased. “It’s not like I don’t carry a gun every day. This is a war, Little Schuyler. People have guns. It’s kind of the whole point of the thing, really.” He chuckled, but Peggy was not amused. 

“You don’t get what it’s like at home,” she said quietly. That shut him up. “You don’t know what it’s like to sit in front of the television praying that you don’t see one of your friends on there. Why would you put yourself into that kind of danger?”

There was a staticky sigh through the phone. “I’m sorry, Peggy,” he muttered. “But if you only heard what Lee was saying about Washington… Alex wanted to do something, but he was under orders. I had to do it.”

“The hell did he say that made a duel seem like a reasonable response?” Peggy asked. She was incredulous. The thought of Alex doing the same thing made her curl her hand into a fist.

John’s voice took on a mocking tone. “‘Washington must not be left to his devices, he’s indecisive between crises,’” he repeated. Peggy frowned. “‘The best thing that he could do for the revolution is go back to planting tobacco at Mount Vernon.’ Shit, we almost lost the Battle of Monmouth because of him. If Laf hadn’t been there, we would have been fucked.”

“I don’t think it’s worth a duel, but I hope you put a bullet in him,” she snapped. Washington was one of the best generals she had heard of, and definitely the best that she’d met, even if he did seem to be winging it half of the time. 

John laughed. “You know I did. Alex said I should have shot him in the mouth, actually,” he admitted. “I got him in the side, but he should be fine. It wasn’t much worse than a graze. Have you gone to see Herc?”

“I don’t know where his shop is,” Peggy frowned. She reached over to the coffee table and grabbed the remote, turning the television off for the first time in months. “I don’t think I’m really allowed to know.”

“Just don’t tell anyone, and I’ll give you his address,” John said. Peggy grinned and grabbed a notepad, jotting down the muttered address for her. She promised to drop in with a dress for him to tailor soon, already running through the options in her closet. She could be sneaky. 

When she hung up the phone that night, Peggy felt lighter. John had given her gossip about Laf and assured her he was okay, had promised that her friends were going to be alright. Somehow, he knew that was exactly what she’d needed to hear to go to sleep without panicking.

There was a war waging outside of her building. Peggy just hoped everyone would make it out alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay a quick note - Elizabeth Schuyler Hamilton was not particularly educated, as is normal for a lady of her time, and was very bad at spelling, which is reflected in her letter with the crossed out words. I just thought it was an interesting detail to include. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	6. .:six:.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: my beta and I refer to this chapter lovingly as "Peggy is a super spy."
> 
> Keeping track? We've hit That Would Be Enough through History Has Its Eyes on You. Things are gonna get Interesting soon...

It was a few months before Peggy was able to make it to Herc’s shop. The arrival of Alex at home kicked off a flurry of baby preparation, and school was back in session before she knew it. It wasn’t until nearly the week of Thanksgiving that she was able to be home in the apartment. She was due at her mother’s for the holiday, but she had two days free with no one to question her whereabouts. It was perfect.

Peggy paid the family’s housekeeper to make an appointment under a fake name, and called for a cab on the day of the appointment instead of taking a family car. She wore her hair down, and dressed in her nicest clothing to play the part of a rich woman who needed her dress tailored for an event. Said dress was just her favorite tea-dress which she had outgrown by about an inch. It really only needed the hem to be let out a bit, something she was more than capable of doing on her own, but it was a decent excuse for seeing a tailor.

The high heels she wore clicked ominously on the pavement as she rounded the corner towards Herc’s shop. She’d told the driver an address about a block away from where she actually needed to be, planning to lose herself in the crowd. It seemed to work. As far as she could tell, no one was watching.

Mulligan’s was tucked away between a law office and a bakery, a small storefront with a deep purple awning - the color of royalty, gently signifying his cover as a supporter of the British. Peggy swallowed, lifting her chin and looking down her nose at a young couple with Betsy Ross’ flags pinned to the straps of their bags. She received a glare that nearly made her step back, but she kept up her facade as she pushed the door open.

No one was in the front of the shop. Peggy crossed to the reception desk and tapped her fingers loudly, clearing her throat pointedly. There was a rustle of fabric from the back of the store, before Hercules appeared around the wall. His usual beanie was replaced by a scarf tied around his head, and a pair of glasses were tucked in the front pocket of his shirt. A few straight pins lined the collar of his blazer. Though his look was all business, it was definitely him.

Herc didn’t look at her as he hurried to the counter, pulling up his appointment book and flipping through it. “Ms. Lewis, is it? You’re right on time,” he said.

Peggy sniffed haughtily. “I believe that punctuality is vital for a woman of my stature, Mr. Mulligan,” she said in a near-perfect imitation of her childhood etiquette teacher. Hercules started at her voice and lifted his head, fighting a smile when he saw Peggy.

“Right this way,” he said politely, inclining his head towards the back of his shop. Behind the wall, there was a stand for clients, a set of chairs and clothing racks, and a dressing room. He motioned towards another door, with a sign that said “No Entry” in elegant script, and she followed Herc into a backroom filled with designs, fabrics, and sewing machines. Peggy smiled, hanging the garment bag containing her dress on a hook, and sat down in a chair that he pulled out for her. He closed the door tightly behind them, and then sat down on a stool beside her.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you,” he grinned, propping his elbows up on his knees, all semblance of formality gone. “That is the point of undercover work, after all.”

Peggy shrugged, pulling her hair back into her usual ponytail. “I have my sources,” she replied.

Herc raised an eyebrow. “John?” he asked with a smile. Peggy giggled and nodded.

“I really meant to come by sooner, but with Eliza’s condition and school, I didn’t get a chance,” she told him apologetically. Hercules frowned, looking concerned. 

“Is Eliza sick?” he asked. “I don’t hear much in here. Got to keep up appearances. Occasionally, my brother brings news, but he doesn’t know your sisters. For example, I heard Alex was sent home, but I don’t know why.”

“That’s easy, he was the main instigator in a duel between John and one of the commanders. John only got two weeks suspension, even though he actually shot the guy, ‘cause he only stepped in so Alex wouldn’t disobey direct orders,” she explained it quickly, as though the thought didn’t still make her want to throw up. John could have been the one who got shot, and she didn’t have a back-up best friend. The closest she had was Martha Manning back at school, her new roommate from London, but even Martha had other things to deal with.

“Those idiots,” Herc said fondly. “That’s not important though. Eliza?”

Peggy grinned, thinking fondly of her sister who had spent the past seven months fighting against everything their mother had forbade her from doing. “She’s pregnant,” she said. Elation spread across Herc’s face. “It’s a boy. His name’s going to be Philip.”

“Ham is gonna be a dad,” he said, looking to the sky in wonder. “Lord help us all. How much longer?”

“He’s due at the end of January, I believe. ‘Liza’s just ready for it to be over. I don’t think she can wait to hold her baby.” Peggy and Herc laughed. His eyes fell on the garment bag and he frowned, standing to unzip it. Peggy flushed as the embarrassingly short dress was revealed. She knew it had been made with an especially wide hem, so she could continue wearing it for a long time, but it had been ages since she’d first gotten it.

“What’s this, then, Piggy?” Herc asked, using the ridiculous nickname he’d picked up from making fun of Lafayette’s accent. 

Peggy shrugged, getting up to look at the dress with him. “It’s just an old tea dress,” she said airily. “I need to let the hem out some to make it fit me again, but that’s an easy fix. It’s way too short for what it’s made for, like, well above my knees, but I really brought it as a cover to come and see you.”

Herc nodded, pulling the dress out of the bag and holding it up. “I could do that, maybe add a bit of petticoat and have it peeking from the bottom,” he said, the voice that Lafayette had lovingly dubbed his ‘designer’s voice’ coming out. “Lower the neckline a bit too - you’re an adult now, you should dress like it - and get rid of the puffy sleeves. Straps would be good.”

Peggy nodded slowly, tilting her head and looking at the pale yellow and white plaid dress. She could picture Herc’s changes. It would definitely be a much nicer dress. “You might have to take it in a bit, I was a chubby teenager,” she added thoughtfully. Herc nodded, leaning over his notepad and jotting something down. He flipped through a sketchbook and held it towards her. 

“Are these still your measurements?” he asked. “It’s from when I made your bridesmaid dress.” Peggy nodded after skimming them, handing the sketchbook back carefully. 

“I can have it done in a month,” he said, business voice returning as he opened the door to his workroom. Peggy stood, gently pulling her scrunchy from her hair and straightening her skirt before striding into the backroom. She pursed her lips and crossed her arms, watching herself in the mirror from the corner of her eye.

“Three weeks, Mr. Mulligan, and I won’t tolerate tardiness,” she snapped, biting back a grin. He nodded, and ushered her out the door, right past a man with pins on his blazer indicating his position in the British forces. She held her breath as she swept out of the shop and down the street, head held high until she made it to a pub that served patriots and could call for a taxi. 

\---

It was just after the new year when Alexander was sent for by General Washington. Peggy had snuck out a few times to visit Hercules again, always wrapping herself in the disguise of a spoiled Loyalist brat, but it was becoming more and more dangerous as tensions between the two armies rose.

“They’re coming to a breaking point, Schuyler,” Hercules had sighed the last time she’d seen him, a few days before Christmas. “Both sides want to end it as soon as possible. Promise me you’ll keep yourself and your sisters safe.”

Peggy flinched, ducking her head. “You know I will, Herc,” she’d said quietly. “I’m not going back to school next semester, I can pick up my studies again after this all ends. If it all ends, that is. Christmas Eve, I’ll be at my mother’s. It’s in the country, it’s safer there. I’ll be staying until the war’s over. All of us will.” The thought of not going back killed her, but she knew that New York City was a prime target. Her mother’s house was out of the way, tucked in the middle of miles of land amidst crops and trees, and it no longer bore the Schuyler name. It was the safest option.

“Good, stay there,” Hercules nodded.

“You can’t get yourself killed either,” she had pouted, eyes giving away the fear that he wouldn’t make it out of the war alive. Her friend had sighed, pushing away from the table and standing up. He looked apologetic.

“I can’t promise I won’t,” he admitted. “I’m going to be out of here as soon as Washington decides to make a move and join the rest of the forces. You know that means I could die, but at least I’ll go out fighting.” Peggy had left shortly after that, desperate to keep him from seeing the tears that threatened to spill from her dark eyes. 

She’d allowed herself some small comfort in the fact that at least Alexander was home, safe with his wife where she could see him every day. But that was shattered with his summons from General Washington and Lafayette to return to battle and take over a command.

“I won’t be long, Betsey,” he promised, standing at the doorway of the estate. He pressed a gentle kiss on her head. “I promise I’ll be home to you and Phillip in no time.” Silently, Peggy doubted it. The baby was due in a month’s time, and there was no way he’d be home before then. There was a very small chance that he’d be home at all.

Alex turned to Angelica next, giving her a tight hug. She offered some advice that Peggy couldn’t hear, and he chuckled while turning to shake Church’s hand and clap him on the shoulder. “Watch out for this one, Angelica,” he teased. “I think he means to marry you.” 

Angelica laughed. “I wouldn’t doubt it,” she said, turning to her boyfriend with a sparkle in her eyes. Church’s cheeks were red with embarrassment, but he said nothing to deny it. Peggy wasn’t surprised. He was incredibly fond of her sister, willing to stand aside and let her take the lead. She’d seen worse men.

Alex turned to her last, catching sight of the tears that had seemed to follow Peggy everywhere she went, hanging on to the edges of her moods for the best time to cry. “Peggy,” he said gently, opening his arms for a hug. Peggy threw herself into them, burying her face into the rough fabric of his coat. She knew it was selfish to be crying. Even Eliza was able to hold herself together, and this was her husband. But in the few short weeks that she’d been at the estate, and even more in the months he’d been home, she’d come to confide in Alex.

Alex pulled back, placing his hands on her shoulders and holding her at arm’s length. “No tears, Pegs,” he said firmly, a small smile on his face. “I’ll be home soon enough. I’d take you with me, but someone needs tell Phillip lots of stories about how big and strong his dad is.”

Peggy gave a watery laugh. “I’m not going to lie to him, Alex,” she teased. He smiled and wiped away a stray tear from her cheek. 

“Take care of your sisters for me, alright Peggy?” he asked. She nodded and he ruffled her hair, mussing up the already tangled curls. Alexander pressed one last kiss to Eliza’s lips, and then he was gone.

Peggy prayed the war would end soon, and return him safely to Eliza’s side. 


	7. .:seven:.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thE BATTLE OF YORKTOWN! We've made it folks, arc one of this fic is nearing completion. We're also catching up to where I've written, which is less exciting. Whoops.

Philip Hamilton was born on the twenty-second, just two weeks after his father departed. He still managed to be about a week earlier than they’d planned for, but he came at perhaps the most optimal time.

Since Alex left, the estate had been too quiet. Peggy had resumed her habit of watching television in the sitting room, eyes wide and unblinking as she searched for signs that one of her friends had died. Her mother fretted over her, concerned that all the violence was making her ill, but Peggy brushed her away each time, abating her mother’s concern by eating a bit or taking a walk before resuming her place on the couch.

Angelica and Church spent their days wandering the grounds or the nearby towns, even going into Albany when things got particularly uncomfortable at home. Peggy knew the proposal was coming soon, but she also knew her sister was reluctant to get engaged when everything was so uncertain. She hoped the war ended soon for their sake. 

Eliza spent her final weeks of pregnancy moping around the house, stressed about Alexander, which ultimately seemed to be the cause of Philip’s slightly early birth. She woke up with contractions mid-morning on January 21st, but it wasn’t until nearly twenty-four hours later that Philip was actually born.

The entire family doted on Philip, Peggy especially. He was just enough distraction for herself and Eliza, what with all the cooing over the tiny child and tending to his every need. Peggy had taken to calling him Pip and talking to him as though he was able to talk back, laying all of her worries on him. It was nice to say it out loud, since she couldn’t seem explain how she felt to anyone who could reply. 

It was several long months before they got any word about Washington’s final strike. Pip was nine months old when one of the stable boys burst into the kitchen as Eliza fed him, yelling for someone to turn on the television. 

“Put on the news,” he cried, face pink. “The Continental Army has attack New York City.”

Peggy flew out of her chair, ignoring the confused cries of her nephew as Eliza tried to shush him. She was still carrying the baby food she’d been holding for her sister in her left hand when she reached the living room where the largest television screen was. One of the maids hurried downstairs with Angelica hot on her heels. Church was already in the room, boots still muddy from riding. He was staring with wide eyes at the television, which was streaming the war torn streets of New York City. 

It took Peggy a second to process what the news anchor was saying, but her hand flew to her mouth when she finally heard it.

“...Attack on British troops last night from all sides with the help of French allies. The allies, led by Rochambeau, were responsible for taking over Chesapeake Bay and providing a route of attack for the Continental Army to take their enemy by surprise. No word yet on when the battle will end…” 

There was a flash of blue and red, and Peggy watched with wide, horrified eyes as troops slipped around a corner, one of whom had thick, curly hair pulled back from his face. The scene quickly changed to more wreckage, but her breath was caught in her throat. That was Laf. This was real. The small jar of baby food slipped out of her hand and exploded onto the floor, covering the carpet and her bare legs, but she didn’t notice.

She turned on her heel and fled to her room, collapsing on the floor. She was shaking. When had she started shaking? Her breath was coming unevenly, tears falling fast and hot down her round cheeks. That was Laf.

There was a gentle knocking at the door, and then Angelica appeared, kneeling at Peggy’s side with a washcloth. She reached for her younger sister, but Peggy jerked back wrapping her arms tightly around her torso and tucking her chin to her chest. Her loose curls fell around her face like a curtain. It hurt to breathe.

“Peggy,” Angelica’s voice broke the tension and Peggy began to sob, shaking so hard she was surprised she didn’t move from her spot on the floor. Angelica used the washcloth to carefully wipe the pureed carrots and chicken from her legs, making soft shushing sounds like those that Eliza made when calming Pip down before a nap. “Peggy, it’s okay, everything’s okay.”

Peggy shook her head. Angelica scooted closer, setting the cloth aside and pulling her sister into a hug. The smaller woman clung to the front of Angelica’s dress tightly, curling her hands into tight fists that tangled into the fabric. “Lafayette will be okay, Peggy, he’s a good soldier, he’ll be fine,” she promised.

Angelica couldn’t promise that, though, just like Hercules couldn’t promise he wouldn’t be killed. This was bigger than a few empty promises.

“John and Alex and Hercules are okay,” Angelica continued. “No news is good news, remember? We haven’t heard anything about them being gone, everything is okay. Hush, Pegs, this will be over soon. They’ll be safe soon.”

Her sister’s soothing words slowly washed over her, and her sobs began to slow. “They could die, Angie,” Peggy whispered. The words had really sunk in, seeing Laf on the screen. “They could get shot and then there’s no coming home from that.”

“They’re okay, I promise,” Angelica said, tightening her grip for a moment. “They’re going to be okay. Don’t think about what could happen, honey, it will just make you sick.” 

It was an hour before Peggy finally pulled away, standing on shaky legs that made newborn colts look graceful. Angelica brought her some food and had her go to bed, but in the middle of the night she crept downstairs to watch the news streaming ruined parts of New York.

It was strange seeing her city like that. There was the grocer her mother liked when she lived there, even though it was ages away from the apartment, looted through by desperate soldiers or civilian survivors. There was the bookstore Angelica used to frequent, now with bulletholes in the windows. The square where she and her sisters used to follow each other, laughing about the protesters, was now nothing more than a pile of rubble. Occasionally there were glimpses of red or blue through the smoke, which did nothing to calm her nerves. No one knew which side was winning.

No one knew who was dead. 

This carried on for a week. Peggy would drag herself away from the television during the day, phone gripped tightly in her hand as she accompanied Church and Angelica, or helped Eliza with Pip, or assisted her mother around the house. But at night she found herself in the sitting room, staring at the television in fear.

That’s where she was when it ended. She’d managed to creep into the living room, using Church’s arrival from a visit to town as a cover. They would find her soon, she kew, but she needed an update.

She didn’t expect footage of a young man in a redcoat waving a handkerchief from a parapet. Her hands shook as the Continental army began lowering their guns. “Mom!” she screeched, scrabbling for the phone in her pocket. Twitter was already blowing up, news of the British surrender filling the screen with endless joyful hashtags and emojis. 

Her mother appeared in the doorway, pursing her perfectly shaped lips. “Margarita, I told you that watching the news was just going to cause you harm-”

Peggy shot off the couch, grabbing her mother by the chin and turning her face to the television. “Mom,  _ look _ ,” she insisted. Her mother’s mouth dropped open in shock, taking a single step closer to inspect the scene still playing on the tv.

“Elizabeth?” she called in a wavering voice. “Angelica, John, get in here.” 

Peggy’s sisters and Church hurried into the room, followed by a handful of servants who’s been attending to them, just as the female announcer with the overly peppy voice started speaking. 

_ “As you can see, the British have just surrendered to the Continental army. There’s General Washington, Baron Von Steuben, and the Marquis de Lafayette, looking worse for the wear. General Rochambeau of France is said to be heading in this direction, so his men may tend to their wounds and negotiations can begin with the British generals. Other troops are also due to be heading towards their headquarters, as there is an official ceasefire  _

_ “Our sources say that in the next forty-eight hours, relatives can expect information about the whereabouts of their family members…” _

The rest of her sentence was drowned out by Eliza’s sobbing. Peggy turned to see her sister kneeling on the floor with her son held close to her chest, tears streaming down her face. Angelica knelt beside her, one arm wrapped around her shoulders. She beckoned Peggy closer, who hurried to Eliza’s other side, wrapping her sister in a brief hug before carefully pulling Philip from her arms. 

Eliza turned to bury her face in Angelica’s shoulder. “Happy tears?” Peggy asked cautiously, gently rocking the baby back to sleep. Her sisters nodded.

“It’s over, Pip,” she whispered, turning back to the child blinking sleepily in her arms. “Your father’s gonna come home.”

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are my lifeblood x
> 
> drop me a line at my tumblr: moonys-crappy-doodles


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